


Legends Burn Down Anything They Want To

by AwesomeNarwhal



Category: Skyrim
Genre: Yolzeydaan's Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeNarwhal/pseuds/AwesomeNarwhal
Summary: Yolzeydaan's plans included boldly going where no one had gone before.Yolzeydaan's plans included raiding ancient tombs.Yolzeydaan's plans included meeting Daedric Princes.Yolzeydaan's plans included becoming the greatest Destruction Mage in the world.Yolzeydaan's plans did NOT include being in a carriage with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, one of his men, a horse thief from Rorikstead and a Dunmer who gave off strange vibes.





	1. An Unlikely Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone burned down a village and, oddly enough, it wasn't Yolzeydaan's fault. Really. It wasn't. Blame the Dunmer. Blame the Dragon. She was just standing there, minding her own business.

Yolzeydaan's plans included boldly going where no one had gone before.

Yolzeydaan's plans included raiding ancient tombs.

Yolzeydaan's plans included meeting Daedric Princes.

Yolzeydaan's plans included becoming the greatest Destruction Mage in the world.

Yolzeydaan's plans did  _NOT_ include being in a cart with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, one of his men, a horse thief from Rorikstead and a Dunmer who gave off strange vibes.

And yet, it happened. They were carried off to a town called Helgen by General Tullius's men, the Breton trying to release herself using magic but failing miserably. Neither her nor the Dunmer were on the Imperial list, but the Captain sent them to the block anyway. The freckled woman felt the anger growing inside, the need to reduce them to ashes aching in the back of her mind.

However, a sound had stopped her. A thundering roar in the distance. Her emerald eyes lit up.

A Dragon.

When the first prisoner was beheaded, she was searching the sky for the source of the sound, and some Imperial Soldiers (although more discreetly) were doing the same. However, when the Captain called the Dunmer to the block, the sound became louder, making all the soldiers (and even the unimpressed Dark Elf) stop for a moment. However, the Imperial woman insisted on carrying on with the executions.

The Dunmer offered no resistance. The ginger wondered why not. After all, the mer could have easily set herself free with the innate ability of her people - Ancestors' Fury, if she recalled correctly.

However, any thoughts were interrupted when the dragon landed on the tower, summoning the Thu'um, knocking out both the elf and the executioner. The Breton, on the other hand, didn't lose her senses. Instead, she ran to help the fellow prisoner.

-Come on! The Gods won't give us another chance!

The stranger said nothing, instead using the forgotten axe to cut her bindings off and holding it up so the young woman could do the same.

-Thank you. Bukkanub? That's your name, right?.

The mer nodded, and grabbed the human's wrist, leading her to the keep. A few Stormcloaks, including Ulfric himself, had taken cover there. Yolzeydaan smiled. Two of her siblings had left to join the rebels, and maybe she would do too after she finished with her adventures.

-Jarl Ulfric!- The blond Nord that had been in the cart with them started, catching his breath. -What is that thing?!? Could the legends be true?

Yolzeydaan looked outside, peeking through a hole in the wooden door that she knew (by her own experience) wouldn't last long. Wooden doors are not very effective against fire.

Flaming rocks fell from a clouded sky, hadn't it been sunny just a few moments ago? Must have been that damned dragon.

-Legends don't burn down villages.

If the Breton had been paying attention, she would surely have been offended. Everyone is allowed to make mistakes, after all. But alas, she was busy staring at the Void-colored Dovah, with eyes glowing red. Her green ones widened as she turned around faster than what one would consider possible.

-How did you do that?

The mer raised an eyebrow, confused. But Yolzeydaan wasn't having it. Preparing one of her favorite spells in one hand and picking up a mace with the other, the Breton stepped closer to the quiet prisoner, a threatening look on her round face.

-How? How did you summon it?

-It doesn't matter how she did it.- Ulfric cut her off. -It only matters if she can send it back. We owe you one, elf. But enough is enough.

The Dunmer walked up the stairs, Ralof and Yolzeydaan following close, and the wall burst open, the dragon's head having pushed the stones away.

The Dragon Shouts were something she was fairly familiar with, since one of her brothers was quite a fan of the Dov. However, none of his stories could compare to hearing the Thu'um in person. She could discern the faintest hint of the words, although most of it sounded like a blood-freezing roar, the flames stronger than anything she had seen before.

-Can you send it back? Like, now?

-No.- The Dunmer responded, before leaping over the still shouting dragon, landing somewhere on the other side. The Dovah turned his attentions elsewhere, and the Apprentice Mage stood there, staring, shaking her head, fear beginning to settle in.

-Hey. Breton. It's okay. See the inn on the other side?- The Nord pointed, attempting to calm her down. -Jump through the roof and keep running. We'll catch up with you.

-I'm not going to run away from a fight like this. I'm putting that thing down or die trying.- A new spark of determination rose from her scared state, as she gripped the mace harder.

-The line between bravery and insanity is hard to see, but I believe that going after a dragon with a mace is deep on the "crazy" territory. Go. I'll meet you outside. Run!

Oh, she would. The woman jumped through the inn's roof, but, instead of going down, Yolzeydaan created a fireball in her hands and launched it at the dragon, running to a more stable position.

Seeing the Dovah turning his head in her direction almost made her regret her decision. Almost. Another fire ball. The Shout that followed was hard to avoid, but still she managed not to die, and use whatever she had left of Magicka to hit the dragon's wing with a fireball.

Seeing that her attacker was getting ready to use the Thu'um again and that magic was pretty much out of question, at least for the moment, the small human tried to come up with a way to attack the dragon in front of her. From below, Imperial archers shot their arrows at the overgrown flying lizard, but their feeble arrows seemed not to have any kind of effect.

An idea formed in her mind, and, before she had time to decide whether it was a good idea or a very stupid one, her body reacted accordingly.

The mace hit the dragon between his eyes, but it only served to irritate him more. The Shout that followed was supposed to have hit her fully, but a second one shoved her out of the way. This was clearer, the word making more sense to her human ears.

-FUS!

And, for the second time that day, everything went black.

__________________

When Yolzeydaan woke up, she was inside of a room she did not recognize. The Imperial who had asked for her name when checking the list was there, as well as Ralof, the Stormcloak soldier who had nearly been killed with them.

-You gave us quite a fright. What was that for, lass? You could have died!

-I'd definitely make it to Sovngarde if I died fighting that thing.- Yolzeydaan tried to get up, the pain was intense. She looked around, the light making her head hurt even more. The quiet Dunmer was there too, and handed her a health potion.

-You'd definitely make it to the Shivering Isles.- The Imperial retorted, handing her an axe. -Try not to throw that at anyone, okay?

A smile made its way to the human's freckled face. Her way to the Isles was more than secure, with her mother as the Duchess of Mania. However, the appeal of being remembered as a hero was undeniable, and wasn't Sovngarde where the heroes of Skyrim went?

-What happened?

-No time. Let's move.- The Dunmer's voice was hushed and rough, as if she didn't use it much. Or as if she had used it too much recently...

-Get that armor, we'll look the other way. Give that axe a few swings too, just don't let it go.

-I know how to use an axe.- She protested, but did as he said. The armor was a bit loose on some points and too tight on others, and definitely too big for her. Noticing this, Bukkanub took out her dagger and cut the fabric in specific points, making it more comfortable for the flame-haired girl.

When they were done, the Imperial led the way through the tunnels. Yolzeydaan tried to make conversation with the others, but no one seemed to be very interested in talking, at least for the moment. The encounter in the storage room had not been pleasant for any of the sides, but the not-yet-Mage collected all the potions she could, while the Dunmer took the ingredients and the alcohol. A worshipper of Sanguine, perhaps?

The torture room was no better, but at least there was no fight going on. Ralof and Hadvar looked at their fallen comrades, but the former prisoners examined the room. Yolzeydaan approached the weapon stalls, unsure of which to choose, until someone tapped her shoulder.

However, when she looked behind her, she only saw two books and Apprentice Robes not exactly her size but almost. The Dunmer was now looting the corpses unceremoniously, as naturally as someone would do while going through their own things.

The ginger changed quickly, and followed the group, grabbing a steel axe and readying her new spell. Sparks. The feeling was strange, compared to the familiar flames she was so used to. But she decided to give it a try. It fizzled in her hand, and glowed purple.

Once again, they passed through a room littered with corpses from both sides. Once again, the Dunmer looted said corpses without a sound. Yolzeydaan followed the soldiers through a bridge the Imperial had lowered, the red-eyed mer following not too far behind.

The passage turned into a cave, and the Breton scowled. Too humid. If there was one thing she learnt from her father was that water could not be trusted. A stream flowed below, and Yolzeydaan absolutely did not want her bare feet to get wet.

Somehow she managed to jump over it, getting no drop of water on her or her clothes. The others didn't have the same cautious attitude, which seemed kind of hypocritical of them - how could Ralof warn her about fighting a dragon but be completely careless about getting cold water on his feet? That was almost like begging to be blessed by Peryite.

They continued through the tunnels, the mer stopping to collect mushrooms. The Nords didn't wait for her and she didn't ask them to, but the not-yet-Mage stopped, mainly out of politeness but also because the Dark Elf had most likely saved her life twice. The elf in question did not seem to care, which made Yolzeydaan wonder why she'd saved her.

The group moved on, encountering frostbite spiders ahead, and while Ralof was petrified and Bukkanub just tried to sneak by, the Imperial and the Breton slashed and electrocuted the things, leaving the elf behind to collect the venom.

-Spiders...- Hadvar shuddered. -What's next? Giant snakes?

But next was simply a bear, and while the mer and the Legionnaire sneaked around it, the Breton had other plans.

That beast was going down.

Fireball on her left hand, axe on her right and a warcry on her lips, Yolzeydaan charged against the bear, that responded with a ferocious growl.

-I'm not scared of you, y'know?- She stated, as the bear's fur began to burn. -I almost killed a dragon today, this is... nothing!

However, it was not nothing, because now, instead of a regular sleeping bear, she had to deal with a really pissed off bear covered in flames. At least the slashes on her shoulder wouldn't be too infected... she hoped.

Still, she managed to kill the beast, with some help from Ralof and the two stealthy archers on the side. Proud, she skinned the bear, taking its fur as a prize.

-Come on. I think that's the way out.- The Nord pointed. Yolzeydaan's grin widened. Light! Daylight!

-By Azura, we made it!

At the mention of Azura, the Dunmer scowled, but said nothing, just following the three out of the cave and all the way to Riverwood.


	2. Liar, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Helgen Fiasco, Yolzeydaan has decided to thank the Dunmer who saved her, but the Mer in question is nowhere to be seen. So, the Breton decides to ask around...

Riverwood is a beautiful town.

The only way for it to be even better would be if that stupid river wasn't there. Oh, well. At least they had bridges. Wooden bridges. That gathered humidity rather quickly.

This annoyed Yolzeydaan, but not as much as the burning question in the back of her mind.

Why had the mer saved her?

It made no sense. None of their interactions had been friendly, and even when she had tried to keep a conversation, the Dark Elf seemed more interested in... pretty much everything else. Her answers had been short and distant. And she hadn't gotten anything that made her understand. If not the Dunmer, who else? But why?

The Breton got up from her chair, leaving Gerdur's home. She'd get an answer out of that silent pointy-eared bastard, no matter what she had to do to get it.

During the last two days, the mer had stayed at the inn, drinking her wine, mead or ale, depending on what they had, disappearing during the day. However, the not-yet-Mage was not surprised to find out the elf was nowhere to be seen.

-Of course...- She grumbled. -Pointy eared bastard...

-Excuse me?!?- A voice she did not recognize spoke. The ginger looked up to see a white-haired Bosmer looking at her.

-No, no, not you. You did nothing wrong. Then again, she didn't either, but... oh, well. I'm Yolzeydaan. You are...?- She extended her hand. The Bosmer took it.

-Faendal. Someone giving you trouble?

-Yeah. Well, no. It's just... I can't find her.

The mer stopped to think for a moment.

-Who is it?

-Dunmer. Really quiet. And really sneaky.

-Oh, I've seen her, alright. In fact, she helped me solve a problem I've been having for a while now. I saw her here yesterday, but it was the last time I did. Maybe Camilla Valerius knows where she went.

Camilla Valerius. Yolzeydaan knew her, the sister of the man whose Golden Claw had been stolen. It seemed like someone was already taking care of that, sadly. It would have been a worthy adventure. Unfortunately, the Riverwood Trader was closed at this time. Maybe she'd ask the other patrons.

The first person she approached was a man who seemed to be constantly drunk. The Dunmer liked her drink, and so did this man. Maybe they had shared one, and perhaps, if Sanguine had been in her favor, the Dunmer had let something slip in her drunken state.

However, as the more rational part of her had predicted, the Dark Elf hadn't shared a thing. A septim, a bottle of mead, and nothing else. Dunmer had more alcohol resistance than she gave them credit for. She approached the bard, playing Ragnar the Red on his lute.

-That one? She's nothing but trouble. No matter. I'll get Camilla to see the truth.- The bard scowled, but then his eyes lit up and a slightly evil smirk. -But I can help you find her, if you help me first.

-Easy enough. What do you need help with?

-Give Camilla this letter, and tell her it's from Faendal. That'll teach him...

Yolzeydaan took the letter and thanked the Nord, moving on to the next patron, Alvor, the blacksmith, but to her disappointment he'd only seen the mer once, when they'd arrived to the town. Maybe the innkeeper would know.

-You're that visitor, been poking around...

-Do you know where the Dunmer that usually came here to drink is? I need to tell her something.

-No idea, kid. Good luck finding your friend.

Asking Orgnar got her the same question, and soon Yolzeydaan felt herself growing bored. And tired. She decided to head to Gerdur's for a good night of sleep, she'd talk to Camilla the next morning.

On her way, curiosity got the best of her. Why had Sven asked her to deliver Faendal's letter? Why didn't Faendal do it himself? Seeing the elf heading to his house, she waved at him, calling his name.

-Can I help you?

-Why don't you deliver your own letter to Camilla? And why does Sven want me to deliver it?

The mer's eyes widened to the size of plates. By the Gods, he was thankful Sven had chosen such a talkative person to carry out his task. Had the Nord asked the Dunmer, he might as well be dead in a ditch somewhere. With Yolzeydaan, however, things were different. Maybe he'd even manage to turn both the Breton and Camilla against the bard.

-I didn't write her a letter.

-WHAT?!?

The not-yet-Mage opened the fake letter carefully, and began reading it out loud. It was quite rude. To think Sven wanted her to take part in a scheme like that... She'd have to give up on searching for the Dunmer. And have a word with Sven.

-I'm gonna have to have a...  _talk_ with that bard...- She highlighted the word by readying the flames in her hand. Faendal held back a smirk. Sven had made a  _huge_ mistake asking her to do it. It seemed like luck was on his side.

The not-yet-Mage slammed the inn's door open, yelling the Bard's name. If the small and chubby shape of the young Breton made her look kind and friendly whenever she was in a good mood, all those features seemed to go out the door when she got angry.

The inn grew quiet. Sven stopped playing his lute. Embry stopped drinking his ale. Alvor stopped talking to Orgnar.

-YOU! HOW COULD YOU? YOU LIED TO ME! YOU WANTED TO LIE TO CAMILLA TOO! AND WORSE! YOU WANTED ME TO LIE TO HER FOR YOU!

Had the Nord not dodged the flying fireball that she threw at him, Yolzeydaan would have had 1000 septims of bounty added to Whiterun. Luckily for both, he was unharmed.

-YOU PROBABLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE SHE IS! MAYBE YOU TWO NEVER EVEN MET! YOU LIED TO ME!

-Hey! Hey! Calm down! Breton!

-DON'T.  _EVER._ TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!

-Not in my inn! You two! Solve whatever that is outside! Go! Off with you!- The scream coming from Delphine stopped them momentarily, and Yolzeydaan shot the bard a threatening glare.

She would end him if he left the inn. But so would the other patrons if he wasn't brave enough to stand up to a fiery Breton. With a gulp, he left his lute on the chair and exited the Sleeping Giant Inn.

Once outside, he was not surprised to find himself between a wall and a destruction spell.

-I am giving you the chance to explain. Don't. Screw. It.

He could retaliate, but the flames were too close this time. If he moved, she wouldn't miss.

-Divines... Stendarr, spare me, no...

-I said, don't screw this up, liar. Now tell me, why? Why would you do that?

Sven gulped.

-Faendal did the same.

-What?

-Ask Camilla. I would never write something like that. Your Dunmer friend gave her the letter.

Yolzeydaan wanted to tell him that it couldn't be true, that she trusted the elf, that her savior was a good person who would never do something like that. Maybe she had been fooled? No, she shook her head, no. The quiet mer was far too smart for that. She knew nothing about her, and, at this point, she had even began to to question whether the Dunmer had really been the one who saved her.

But she had heard the Thu'um, had she not? Loud and clear, Fus. She had heard the Dark Elf, had she not? Her voice was hoarse. She had seen the eyes. The dragon had arrived when the Dunmer was about to die.

She would find her, oh, yes, she would. But "thank you" was  _not_ what she was going to say.

-So Faendal did it first. Listen. I will talk to Camilla Valerius tomorrow. If I find out you lied to me, we are going to have a serious problem.

That night, Yolzeydaan slept poorly. She couldn't trust Faendal nor Sven, and probably the missing Dunmer was also not trustworthy. How could she be sure Hod and Gerdur wouldn't kill her in her sleep?

She missed her family.

_________________

On the next morning, the Breton made her way to the Riverwood Trader. Upon seeing her, Lucan and Camilla seemed more... Uncomfortable than earlier.

-Camilla, I need your help.

-What can I help you with?- There was a hint of fear in her voice, but Yolzeydaan's ears were unused to it, so she did not notice.

-Did you get any letter from Sven lately?

-Actually, yes. A rather rude one, mind you. If I may ask, what happened last night?

-He lied to me. And wanted me to deliver you this, and say it was from Faendal. When I talked to him outside, he said Faendal did it first, and that my "friend" had given you the letter. But I don't trust him completely. People say the stranger things when there's a flame next to their faces. Can I borrow that letter, please?

-I... Don't see why not. There you go. Just don't burn down the whole town, okay?

-I promise you, on my honor, no innocent will die by my hands.

With that, the not-yet-Mage left the room, headed to Faendal's house.

-That could have gone waaaay worse.

-For once, sister, I agree with you wholeheartedly. Let's just hope she follows through with her promises.


	3. Grave Robber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolzeydaan is feeling used and stupid. To get her mind off of things, she decides to go clear the Barrow near the town. Unfortunately, someone else got there first...

On her way to the elf's house, Yolzeydaan couldn't help but feel incredibly... Used. Why was she doing it, anyway? Couldn't she just let things solve themselves?

No, she shook her head. She had been involved, and she would make sure that whoever caused this mess would pay.

-FAENDAL!- She knocked hard on his door. -COME OUT OR I SWEAR I WILL KICK THIS DOOR INTO OBLIVION!

And it seemed that his luck had reached its end. One can only push so far. Without a sound, the mer hid. Maybe she'd give up...

The door was hard to kick open, and Yolzeydaan had no experience with lockpicking. It was a thief's ability, and she disliked thieves as much as she liked freshly baked pie. Hmm. Pie was good.

Contemplating on how to open the door, the not-yet-Mage remembered a lesson she learned accidentally on her first magic lessons:  _wooden doors are not effective against fire._

The Breton focused on her flames, trying to conserve the most magicka possible. Between the cracks of the fire and the wood, Faendal managed to open the window and leave without her noticing it. Phew. That had been a close one.

When the door was weak enough to break, Yolzeydaan charged, her shoulder hitting the still dangerously hot wood and effectively making a Breton-sized hole where the door should be.

She entered to find that the door was locked from the inside as well, and that the window was open. The coward had fled! Cursing under her breath, she headed to the Riverwood Trader, but soon regretted her choice.

Opening the door, the sight was... Strange. Not stranger than anything she had seen when visiting her mother in the Isles, but still. The Valerius siblings were standing still, the only clothes they wore were their smallclothes and buckets on their heads, and everything else was gone.

Now, Yolzeydaan was not entirely sure if what she had walked in on was a very strange robbery or if Sheogorath and Sanguine had been together recently, but she decided she wasn't going to ask. They'd probably lie to her anyway.

She needed to get her mind off of things for a while. And what better to do that than raiding an ancient tomb that was very conveniently located? She smiled at the thought and crossed the bridge to the other side of the damned river (was it really necessary to have all this water in one place?), following the trek up the mountain.

On her way, she found a bandit camp. They attacked as soon as they saw her, leaving her little time to think about how unpleasant the snow felt on her uncovered feet. But shoes were worse, they were really worse.

Preparing her spell and her axe, the not-yet-Mage got ready to fight the three attackers. The first one to fall was the archer, taking a fireball to the chest. The momentarily distraction allowed the mace-wielding Khajiit woman to hit her hard on the side, and the green-eyed human bent over in pain.

But she wasn't going down without a fight, and grabbed the bandit's armor, pulling the woman closer. The Khajiit was confused for a fraction of a second, and that was all Yolzeydaan needed to press her flaming hand to her face, before killing her with a quick hit of her steel axe.

The third bandit charged with a war cry she found rather stupid, seeing that he was a Dunmer and proclaimed that "Skyrim belongs to the Nords". But, oh, well, if that was what he believed, who was she to tell him otherwise? The mer would die either way.

The ginger rolled away from the attack, and blocked the next one, getting up. By her Aunt, she  _hated_ snow. The Dunmer swung his sword at her leg, slashing the uncovered flesh and making the woman muffle a pained squeak. Taking advantage of her hatred for shoes, he attempted to step on her toes, but was stopped by a sudden pain.

-Say goodbye to your kneecaps, asshole.

However, he never got to actually tell his kneecaps goodbye, since the Breton decided to recreate a very famous scene from an incredibly popular song by sending his head rolling on the floor.

Yolzeydaan made her way to the tower where the bandits seemed to have been taking shelter, and sat down on a chair. Examining her wounds, she carefully removed an arrow from her shoulder, cursing the archer.

-Now, what did Gorbul say? Oh, yes. Focus on building, not tearing apart.

Hands trembling, she casted the healing spell her older brother had taught her. Gorbul was only two years older than her, being the second youngest of the family. They were best friends, always together, until he came to Skyrim to become a priest of Kynareth.

She smiled, remembering their childhood. He was always so cautious, and she, reckless. She brought him stuff from her tiny adventures and he'd practice alchemy, and he'd heal her wounds if anything had happened. It always happened something. He taught her how to do it herself, and she was sad. It meant he couldn't be there forever.

"I'll always be with you, silly. Even if I'm not there physically. This is my way of protecting you when I'm far. Think of me when you do it, alright?"

"Alright. And you, think of me when you get attacked by bad guys or something. Set them on fire, they won't know what hit 'em."

This had been another part of their relationship. Gorbul was often teased by others, at least until their parents adopted Yolzeydaan. From that moment, everyone knew that messing with the kind and quiet orc meant having to ask him for a healing spell later.

She wondered if they'd meet again. She surely hoped so, it was one of the reasons she had left Cyrodiil. Come to think of it, since dad, her siblings had all moved to Skyrim with the exception of one, but even him wasn't that far, living now in the island of Solstheim.

Eating an apple she found in a sack on the floor, the Breton got up and made her way to the Barrow. There, she was met with two more bandits, but this time she was prepared, and they only managed to get three arrows through her before she roasted them all.

The not-yet-Mage thought about chugging a potion of Magicka, but decided against it. Magicka recovered naturally, and she didn't had many potions. However, there was an alchemy table back in the fort. After all, why not? She had seen her brother doing it enough times to whip up a few minor health potions...

Okay, maybe she hadn't. But at least now she had a Potion of Resist Frost and a warm, nice cup of tea.

Actually, not so warm.

She had a Potion of Resist Frost and a nice cup of tea. Smiling, she brought the mixture to her lips and spit it back out immediately.

She had a Potion of Resist Frost and a cup of tea.

Was it  _really_ tea?

She had a Potion of Resist Frost and a cup.

Putting down the last item, she grabbed her stuff and left the tower again, entering the Barrow. Inside, the corpses of skeevers and naked bandits were laying around, and she wondered if somebody had taken all of their stuff or if this was common in Skyrim. Damn Nords and their Frost Resistance.

She headed down, and the further she went, the more disappointed she felt. A few Draugr still kicking, but the tomb had been raided before. Still, Yolzeydaan forced herself to continue, maybe there still was something to make the trip worth it.

Her prize came when she reached the last cave, in the form of a chanting wall and a Draugr Overlord that woke up when she inspected the wall closer. It was strange, as if it was calling her. She knew a few words, but not all of them, and she was pretty sure she'd get half of them wrong.

The Overlord gave her the fight she was needing to clear her mind, funny how a bloody nose could help someone feel better. She used all that she had, and was panting by the time it was over, but had a smile on her face as she took his enchanted sword.

-This one's mine, buddy.

Still, Skyrim owed her an untouched tomb. She exited through the back, the secret passage already open and the chests already looted.

She'd catch that Dunmer, she swore to herself, and give her a piece of her mind. But first, she'd go to Whiterun.

Okay, first she'd stop by that fisherwoman's hut and sleep for a while. After that, Whiterun!


	4. There's A Horse Loose In The Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolzeydaan makes a new friend and finds an old one, but also manages to confuse half of Whiterun and make Danica Pure-Spring slightly irritated.

The path to Whiterun wasn't hard, a wolf or two, but nothing that she couldn't handle.

She stopped to help a few farmers with their crops, and that earned her some money. Entering the meadery, she asked about the Dunmer, but nothing. Seeing as she was already there, Yolzeydaan decided to ask the owner for work.

-Here. Some of the guards left this bounty earlier.

She read the note. Clearing out a bandit camp. Not as interesting as tomb raiding, but fun nonetheless. Silent Moons camp. Hmm.

The not-yet-Mage searched for the location on her map. She'd need a horse, or she was in for quite a walk. Yolzeydaan did not feel like walking. Not in Skyrim, where there was so much snow. It was water, disguised, but still water, and she did not like it one bit.

The horse was damn expensive, but she paid nonetheless. After the purchase, she was left with twenty septims.

She approached the horse she had bought and petted her face. It was warm and soft, and the mare responded well to the touch. Allie, the man had called her. Yolzeydaan liked the name, and liked the mare, too. Luckily, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Getting rid of the reins and the saddle, the tiny woman climbed on top of the mare with some difficulty, and set a steady gallop towards her destination. A pack of wolves made the mistake of attacking her new friend, but instead of trying to kill them the not-yet-Mage decided to try a different approach.

Unfortunately, the wolves in Skyrim are not tameable and remained hostile after she tried all the tricks her brother Silgorn had taught her. Maybe she was missing that Bosmer charm.

But hey, Allie liked her, and that was a plus.

They reached Silent Moons Camp at dusk, and Yolzeydaan stopped the mare far enough for her to not be hit if the bandits decided to target anything that moved, before drawing out her axe and her spell.

-Alright... Let's do this

Approaching the camp, the young Breton was surprised that nobody had detected her yet - the wannabe Mage was  _NOT_ stealthy. A few more steps closer and a strange feeling she couldn't shake off proved her wrong. It wasn't that she hadn't been detected - she hadn't seen  _them_. 

The woman had very little time to prepare herself, a steel arrow hitting her right on the knee. She cursed her luck, but decided to continue. By her Aunt, she'd fought a dragon. She wasn't going to let a bunch of bandits take her down - at least not until she'd reduced them to ashes. AS the Nord ran towards her with his warhammer raised, she shot her flames in his direction, causing the bandit to die at her feet.

Another arrow hit her, this time on her shoulder. She pulled the arrows out and made the "food break" sign. Everyone knew that sign, and even the most savage of creatures respected it. It meant that the opponent needed to take a break and eat for a while, and so, everything should stop until the "break over" signal was made by the same person who stopped to eat.

A cheese wheel did the trick. Perhaps this was why her Aunt was so fond of it. Or maybe not. One could never be sure. Yolzeydaan signed that the break was over, and they began fighting again, the not-yet-Mage running towards the bandit, blasting fire from her hand.

-I cannot best you! Mercy!

The ginger lowered her weapons and extended her hand, helping the woman up, and gave her a cheese wheel. However, when she finished her meal, the Imperial was less unsure of herself.

-Never should have come here!

-HEY! What?!?

Using her axe to block the attacks, Yolzeydaan felt... betrayed. Why? She'd helped the woman. Maybe there was something she wasn't understanding here. Something inside the Camp, worth protecting. A secret. Maybe it was important to the Imperial. She lowered her hand and her weapon.

-Hey, hey, I surrender, what's going on? Can I help you?

-Yeah, why don't you turn around, and start running, so I can stab you in the back?

-It's okay, I mean you no harm. I'm sorry about your friend...

The bandit sighed and rolled her eyes, asking the Divines why they had sent her a "hero" so inexperienced. At least this would be an easy one.

-What, that guy? Not my friend. By Ysmir, you won't leave here alive!

Dodging the sword of her attacker, the freckled human prepared the spell again, looking the Imperial in the eyes.

-Why?

-You'll be so much easier to rob when you're dead!

Yolzeydaan didn't want to be messing with something that could be important for someone's family, but enough was enough. This time, when the bandit screamed in agony as her flames swallowed the Imperial's thin body, the not-yet-Mage did not look away.

The fight left her some bruises and a wound on her arm, and the fact that she did not like shoes left her feet freezing and, honestly, it was getting quite painful. Carefully as to not hurt herself, she sealed the bleeding wound with her flames, and used them to heat up her bare feet. She could just take the bandit's shoes, but... looting corpses felt wrong.

At least that's what she told herself as an excuse to not put shoes on.

Finding the entrance to the camp was quite a challenge, and the aspiring adventurer spent a while trying to figure out where it was. The fights that followed were even less pleasant than the first ones, including a moment when Yolzeydaan herself caught on fire. Nothing that hadn't happened before, but this was different, and very uncomfortable, especially with the axe wound she got on her forearm.

Sitting down with a new enchanted axe that could set people on fire at night and a batch of fresh wounds all over, Yolzeydaan tried to heal herself, but either her Magicka reserves were too low to do so or she was just really tired. Instead, she found a bedroll and fell asleep.

That was a dreamless night, not usual for the Breton. Her mother used to visit her during her sleep, so they could catch up on their conversation. She was glad, though. She was so tired she wasn't sure she'd been able to maintain a rational train of thought. Not that it was necessary, but despite her love and admiration for her mother and her adoptive Aunt, the youngest member of the family liked to keep a bit of sanity.

The majority of her wounds had sort of healed with sleep, so the not-yet-Mage just ate an apple and left the camp, searching for her horse.

Allie was exactly where she had left her, munching on some grass. Yolzeydaan petted her, enjoying the softness and warmth of the mare's fur, and soon Allie began munching on her messy orange hair affectionately. In a land full of people who were not so nice, Allie was a breath of fresh air, and she couldn't be more thankful for her new four-legged-friend.

Before heading out, the aspiring adventurer decided to let Allie eat for a while more, while talking to the mare about little things. Allie would neigh in response, sometimes clomping the floor with her hooves.

The way to Whiterun was more peaceful than the way to the Camp, this time the only stop being a few revelers on the side of the road. The Breton herself was not usually a drinker, but the atmosphere was too friendly for her to pass it, so she just enjoyed the company of the men who singed and drank for a while. What was she saying about the people not being nice? Maybe she'd started off with the wrong foot, but now things seemed to be going along just perfectly.

Or not.

The Companions are said to be a group of honorable warriors, like the Skyrim equivalent of Cyrodill's Fighter's Guild. If you want to be a war hero, a real adventurer, you go to Jorvaskrr. In that mead hall, are the best people you'll ever meet. Or the worst.

Probably the worst.

After a rather humiliating encounter, Yolzeydaan was torn. Half of her wanted to burn the mead hall to the ground, but the other half yearned to prove them that she was no  _milk drinker._ She almost killed a  _DRAGON_ back at Helgen. Almost almost. Definitely. If the elf hadn't pushed her away and knocked her unconscious, she'd have brought the Dovah down.

Plus, the only reason why she hadn't hit the giant was because she hadn't got there in time. But no matter. She'd show them. She'd prove she was good enough. To Oblivion with that, she'd train even harder. She'd hunt down that dragon and kill it, and  _then_ they'd have to take her in for sure.

-Halt! City's closed with the dragons about. Official business only.

-I was at Helgen. Gerdur sent me. Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid.

-You were at Helgen? You better go on in. But... you're not taking the horse, are you?

-Yes. I am.

Had the guard not been wearing one of those helmets, the not-yet-Mage would have been able to see him rolling his eyes before opening the gate to the city. What was with all these loonies coming in anyway? Oh, well. The ginger and her horse seemed mostly harmless.

Yolzeydaan and Allie made their way to the Cloud District. The mare's presence was unnerving for some and amusing for others, but most people kept to themselves.

The Breton stopped near the Temple of Kynareth. She had planned to go directly to Dragonsreach, but, then again, when did she actually followed through with a plan?

 Gorbul was working on a soldier's wound when he felt two tiny arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing tightly.

-HELLO!

-Yolzeydaan! You've grown since last time. And... By Kynareth, Tiny, what did you get yourself into?

-I  _almost_ killed a dragon. Almost.

Her brother shook his head as he closed the cut on the soldier's arm.

-Tsk tsk. What would Rhalen say?

Rhalen, their Redguard brother, was an enthusiast of all things dragon. He aspired of becoming a greybeard one day, but for the moment lived in Solstheim, claiming he had found something fascinating there. He would have definitely frowned upon Yolzeydaan's attempt, not only for the danger she put herself in but also because she'd wasted a wonderful learning opportunity.

The not-yet-Mage smiled. Had Rhalen been the one on the cart, not only the Dunmer but also the Dragon would still be in Helgen, being questioned by the most dedicated of scholars.

-I missed you, Tusks.

-I missed you too, Tiny.

-THERE'S A  _HORSE LOOSE IN THE TEMPLE!_

-It's okay! That's my horse, she's with me.-The ginger smiled, and Allie neighed, confirming her statement.

Danica Pure-Spring was an understanding, reasonable woman. But everyone had their limits, and she drew the line at pets inside the temple. But this was no pet! This was a horse! Loose in the temple!

Gorbul was one of her best healers, if not the best she had met in her whole life. He seemed to be very close with the madwoman who opened the door for the horse, so throwing her out could result in something she did not felt like dealing with. She needed to think of a way to get "Tiny" out, and to take the horse along.

-Does your horse know how to brew potions?

-Maybe. I only got her two days ago, I have no idea. Hey, Allie!

-Neigh?

-You know how to use that?

-Neigh.

The Priestess of Kynareth looked around. There had to be something. An accident. A quest. Seeing the pilgrim standing on the side, staring at the mare as she clomped around, having grown bored of the alchemy table, an idea came to her mind.

That tree needed to be healed anyway. She'd kill two birds with one stone.


	5. Wholesome Family Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a Responsible Older Brother, Gorbul will not let his little sister go alone into a Hagraven's nest. Allie defies the laws of physics because that's what horses do best and Yolzeydaan thinks that Pelagius's decision of outlawing death was a very good idea.

- _No._

The Priestess turned to see her colleague and friend crossing his arms and looking at the newcomer with determination.

-You will not face them alone. You came back from a bandit camp looking like that, and you want to go into Orphan Rock? Hold on. If you're really going to do this, I'm coming with you.

Yolzeydaan hugged her brother tightly. To be honest, she had missed traveling with him. True, when they had parted, she could barely hold an axe, but Linarie had taught her a few tricks when she came home for a few weeks, taking a break from helping Ulfric in the fight. The Altmer hadn't joined for the cause itself (the Breton doubted she even understood what was happening 85% of the time) but for her "twin" brother, who had joined as a spy. Those two were inseparable. Maybe she'd go see them later, now that she could actually fight.

Meanwhile, Allie had taken a particular interest in Danica's hood, biting it in a friendly way. Making sure no one was looking, the Nord decided to pet the mare gently. At least now she wasn't trying to partake in important alchemy breakthroughs.

-You really shouldn't be in here, y'know?- She whispered. The mare clomped her hoof once and continued munching, until her owner called her, opening the door. Gorbul had already packed his things, and replenished the not-yet-Mage's stock of Magicka and Healing potions. The three bid the rest of the people in the Temple goodbye, and left to the Plains District.

Once again, Allie was the target of several stares, and the mare seemed to relish in the attention, occasionally bumping her snout into the ginger's head and snorting happily.

The younger sibling approached a stall where a woman was selling food. It was a good idea to stock up on that, since food worked like tiny healing potions (and tasted way better).

-Life's hard enough with all those men propositioning to me. But that bard is the worse.- She complained as she handed the not-yet-Mage the supplies and recieved the money.Yolzeydaab glared at her brother, who shook his head.

-You know me, Tiny. I would never.

-Oh, hello, Gorbul. How are things up in the Temple? Is that guard still giving you trouble?- The woman's tone was different, and, although the Breton was glad that her brother had friends, she was internally getting ready to beat whoever "gave trouble" to the orc.

-Not anymore. That leg was one of the most difficult cases I ever saw, but with Arcadia and Olfina's help we managed. There he goes, good as new. Mikael is still giving you a headache.

-That bard is begging for a dagger up against his throat, the way he goes on about me. I've heard him boasting at the Bannered Mare, saying he'll 'conquer me as a true Nord conquers any harsh beast.' Hmph.

-Maybe I could go talk to him.- The aspiring adventurer offered.

-Really? If you want to try, go right ahead. I don't think anything will get through his thick skull of his, though.

The Breton grinned.

-Don't worry, I have an axe. I'll be right back.

-Yolzeydaan, I'd rather not have to heal him just because you felt like he'd hear you better with his head cracked open.

-Like I said, don't worry, Tusks. I got this. Wait here. You too, Allie. Sit.

The mare sat down, but as soon as her owner walked to the Inn, Allie got right back up an followed her, making little to no noise with her hooves.

-My sister's horse is better at stealth than she is...

-Ey! Allie, you can't come in, girl. I'm going to have a talk with him, but things might get hairy. Stay with Gorbul, okay? I promise I will make it up to you.

The mare began pawning with her front legs, but a stern look from the small Breton was enough to make her go back to where she sat. The fact that Carlotta gave her an apple definitely helped, though.

Entering the tavern, the ginger spotted the bard immediately. It wasn't hard, he was holding a lute and singing.

-Oy! Mikael!

The Nord man stopped playing as the not-yet-Mage walked towards him. There was no need to be aggressive yet, it would just be two people talking... She hoped. Causing a scene in a tavern in Whiterun wasn't something she wanted to do.

-It's about Carlotta. You know, that woman in the market? It has to stop.

-Carlotta put you up to this, didn't she? Excuse me, but that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet.

-She's not "yours".- The flames already manifesting on her hands, but Yolzeydaan kept them down, grabbing her Apprentice Robes. -Stop this nonsense.

-What did you just say? All I heard was the sound of jealousy.

-Jealousy? Listen here, you skeever-eating cave-troll, she is  _not. Into. You._ How in Oblivion is that hard to understand?

-This does not concern you. Go back to your horses, Breton.

Each second it got harder to control, but she did it. For Gorbul. For the other patrons. Allie would surely be scared if the Inn caught fire.

-Are you dead, bard? Because if so, the necromancer did a terrible job. She doesn't like you! She doesn't want you! But maybe someone else does, so move on!

-And would that someone happen to be you?

-You are on thin ice, bard.

-Hey, hey! No need to get aggressive! Put... Put the flames away. Put the flames away. Easy there. I didn't mean to make you upset! I won't bother her again, just... Don't hurt me, please.

-I'm glad we reached an understanding.

The Breton exited the Bannered Mare, either indifferent or unaware of the looks she was recieving from some of the patrons. Outside, her brother and Carlotta chatted, as Allie sat like a loyal dog waiting for her, occasionally neighing at passerbys that sometimes petted the mare's snout or neck.

-Well, you've got ninety-nine problems but a bard ain't one. If he bothers you again, just use Destruction Magic!- The not-yet-Mage smiled as her brother tsk'd disapprovingly.

-You actually talked him out of it? I'd thank the Gods, but I'll settle for thanking you. Here. Have this.

However, the ginger refused the money. True, she hadn't much herself, but Carlotta had a child to feed and Mikael hadn't given her too much trouble. With a goodbye to the single mother, the trio departed, leaving Whiterun and heading towards Orphan Rock.

The journey was faster than what Gorbul had expected, but Yolzeydaan and Allie seemed to be enjoying the speed. To be honest, the Orc was getting a little sick to the stomach with all the ups and downs. He could swear that Skyrim's native horses were some kind of magical creatures, what with their strange ability to walk on every possible terrain.

Their speed changed as they approached a place the aspiring adventurer knew too well.

Helgen.

There was a burnt corpse at the entrance, and the whole place would have seen abandoned hadn't she heard the voices coming from the inside. Bandits, pillagers, looters. She scoffed. Typical.

-Did you...?

-Nope. This was a Dunmer and her dragon. You haven't happened to see one, have you?

-A dragon or a Dunmer?

-Any.

-The only Dunmers I saw were Irileth and Athis. Oh, and Jenassa from the Drunken Huntsman.- The priest shrugged. Nobody had passed through Whiterun in the last months except for a human pilgrim. For a city in such a central position, it wasn't as full of movement as he had expected. Nothing like back home in Cyrodiil.

Then, suddenly, the voices became silence. Not a natural silence, a silence that shouldn't be. Allie neighed, her ears tensed up and her tail wagging from side to side in a nervous manner.

-Come on, Tiny. We have a tree to save.

She frowned, her nose scrunching up. There was something wrong with that town, but Gorbul steered the mare away, the eerie feeling lingering for a bit more in the back of the human's mind.

 They passed a Stormcloack camp, but didn't see the "twins" there, so they just moved along after the orc asked for directions to Orphan Rock. Unfortunately, both managed to forget said directions halfway there, and had to improvise.

The Clarivoyance spell was tricky, often showing the "quickest" path to the caster's goal, not necessarily the easiest. The healer sighed as the blue light directed them up a mountain that they'd never be able to climb even with the help of all the spells and stamina potions in the world.

-We'll just have to go back to the road.

-I don't think so.

-Yolzeydaan. No one could climb this thing, okay? We need to go back.

-We have a horse.

The priest looked at the mare, that seemed to be making a staring contest with a snow fox, and then back at the smiling Breton.

-Yol...

-The man said she could handle any kind of terrain!

-You can't believe in everything people say. Look at the angles on that thing!

-Give her a chance. Please?

Gorbul was not sure, but he did not want to argue with his younger sister, not after being separated from her for so long. Had it been something more dangerous, the priest would have put his foot down, but this would be simple. The mare wouldn't be able to climb and they'd go back, Yolzeydaan happy to have tried and they'd get to Orphan Rock in no time. After all, what else could happen? It's not like horses could break the laws of physics.

Okay, maybe the horses in Skyrim could. The orc held on tightly as the flame-haired woman directed Allie up the mountain, then down, then in directions he didn't knew were possible. At a certain point, he could have sworn they'd phased  _through_ the rock, but the two seemed undisturbed by it. A quick healing spell made his stomach stop trying to expel his last meal when they finally pulled over.

-Now stay here, alright girl? We'll be right back.

As her brother recomposed himself, the Breton readied her spells. For a Hagraven's nest, the place was awfully quiet. The pair walked through the forest as quietly as they could, when the inevitable happened.

The tiny stone was just minding its own business. It wasn't it's fault that a not very sneaky aspiring adventurer tripped over it, triggered a frost rune, scared off a fox and a hare, rolled against a tree and alerted three witches of their presence there, as well as a deer that fled along with all the birds in said tree and those nearby.

The ice spell hit the not-yet-Mage in the leg, and she used her flames to melt it off, before launching a fire ball in the witch's direction. Meanwhile, Gorbul kept the second one away with an iron dagger and a powerful ward. She had to remind herself to ask him for that spell later. Yolzeydaan dodged another ice spike, preparing her firebolt spell once more, but forgot about the third opponent. The lighting drained her magicka, not only hurting her but making her feel dizzy. She could feel her blood pulsing through her body, and the flames became quieter and quieter until they were no more.

She had to switch. Taking out her steel axe, the aspiring adventurer charged to the witch who'd emptied her magicka. She was slower than she wanted to, the frostbite making speed harder. Oh, she hated ice. She was glad that there wasn't a liquid water spell. At least that she knew of.

The axe collided with the witch's neck, and, though she tried to pull out a dagger, Yolzeydaan's strike sent the Nord to whatever afterlife she had chosen. The fireball hit her in the stomach, her Apprentice robes easily catching fire. As she tried to put out the flames, a scream of pain made her forget about the task at hand.

-TUSKS!

The healer was on the floor, barely keeping up his ward. His magicka was low, and the Breton knew she had to do something: either keep the witch away long enough for her bother to get up from the forest floor or heal him herself.

She decided to do both.

And failed.

A particularly well-aimed ice spike pierced her through her chest, freezing her in place, green eyes widened and mouth agape in a shocked expression as the she fell to her knees. The witch then moved on to the orc, curled up in a ball on the dirt.

A wicked smile on her lips, she prepared her lightning bolt, only to have it interrupted as she was projected to the side. The mare then proceeded to chase the other witch, as Gorbul downed a magicka potion, healing himself and his sister.

-You okay?

-Yeah. Remind me to bring Allie on the next time we get into fights.

The not-yet Mage prepared a fire ball in her hands, ready to run in and help her equine friend taking down the two surviving witches. The priest focused on keeping them both alive as Allie stomped one with her hooves and Yolzeydaan got out her axe, slicing the other in half.

She definitely needed new robes after this.

But there was still something to deal with. The Nettlebane wasn't in any of the corpses, so that had to mean they were missing something. Gorbul made them wait for him to get everyone back to their original health, and then the trio (this time, Allie was definitely tagging along) climbed a rock.

If the witches had been a challenge, they were glad they were only encountering the Hagraven now. Three firebolts kicked the mare from the equation, and that was enough for Yolzeydaan to get distracted long enough to get hit as well. Gorbul knew how rage felt, he'd felt it only moments before when the witch froze his sister, but now he could act on it.

He focused on what she'd taught him. He felt the anger being directed to his palms in a strange, purple, sickening magic. He had no idea of what he was doing, he just knew he had to unheal. And so he did.

The Hagraven's body was destroyed in a gory scene, the orc so exhausted he didn't notice the light of the not-yet-Mage's spell, so similar to the magic their parents practiced. Nor did he notice the strange glow in the mare's eyes when Allie got up again, and the Breton hugged her undead friend before recovering the Nettlebane.

The mare helped him up, still warm, and the trio departed back to Whiterun, the trip making the orc nauseous once more. 


	6. So Many Quests, So Little Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolzeydaan has a terrible habit of wanting to help everyone at the same time and the attention span of Dory from Finding Nemo.

The trio arrived Whiterun at dawn, the chill of the morning biting their bones. While Gorbul was used to the cold and Allie was... well, dead, Yolzeydaan cursed her decision of coming to Skyrim as she attempted to cast a flame cloak spell with the help of a scroll. Why couldn't her siblings have moved to somewhere warmer, like the Alik'r Desert, or the Summerset Isles, maybe Elseweyr, where her Aunt liked to spend her vacations sometimes? No, it had to be Skyrim, the land of ice and snow and cold.

The guards let them in, not even questioning the mare's presence anymore, but the comment about her strange eyes was not unheard by the not-yet-Mage. Her brother looked at her quizzically, but the Breton dismissed it, claiming it was probably an effect of one of the Hagraven's spells.

-We're just asking to look for her.- Another guard was arguing with two Redguards, and Yolzeydaan stopped her horse to listen to the conversation. Apparently, the men were looking for someone, hiding in Whiterun. The ginger got off her saddle, and approached the warriors as they were about to leave the city, not because they wanted to, but because the guard had forced them to.

-Hi! So, you're looking for someone? I'm Yolzeydaan, by the way.- She extended her hand, and one of the men did the same, only to see his hand shaken with enough energy and strength to make him wonder if the small Breton had been raised by orcs, a thought he confirmed by looking up at Gorbul, who chatted with Severio Pelagia about the weather.

-Yes. She's a Redguard, like us. She's probably not using her real name. Is he your husband?

-My brother. Why are you looking for her?

-That is none of your concern. All you need to know is that we're looking for her, and we're willing to pay for information.

The not-yet-mage frowned. This seemed suspicious. She'd find the woman, oh, that she would. And she'd warn her. These people seemed pretty shady.

-I'm not interested. Goodbye.

-If you change your mind, you can find us in Rorikstead.

With that, the Redguards left, and the green-eyed adventurer turned to her brother, who had began to examine the mare. There was something not natural about Allie, and he recognized the tingle of strong magic near her. How could he not? Their house back in Cyrodill had been full with it, a long time ago. This was their mother's favorite type of magic. Maybe Yolzeydaan had learnt more than what he believed. While his sister sticked to Destruction Magic, he was pretty sure he'd be able to control the damage, but Necromancy... He just needed to ensure the ginger wouldn't try to raise an army of undead. As long as he didn't tell her not to raise an army of undead, the idea would, hopefully, not occur to the Breton.

-Do you know her?

-Who?

-The woman they're looking for. We need to warn her, Gorbul! She's in danger!- She pleaded. There were several Redguard women in the city, and even more in the district. Luckily for them, the priest (as the best healer in Whiterun and probably all of Skyrim, on his best days maybe one of Tamriel's top ten) knew quite a lot about the people who came and went. Sooner or later, all ended up talking to him, whether because they needed to see their wounds tended to or just a friendly face and a shoulder to cry on.

There was indeed a Redguard woman, young, who had arrived the city of Whiterun not long ago. She was reserved, and seemed to distrust even the ones who she called friends. Her behavior had not gone unnoticed by the orc, but when asked about it, the woman danced around the question, deflecting it and avoiding precise answers. He did not insist. Her name was supposedly Saadia, and she worked at the Bannered Mare. Yolzeydaan scrunched her nose. They'd head to the Bannered Mare after giving Danica Pure-Spring the Nettlebane.

After a disgusted and slightly frigntened priestess told the Breton she'd rather not touch the weapon they had nearly killed themselves to retrieve, sending the pair once again in another (probably harmless) quest, promising a pilgrim that they'd take him with them when they left to Eldergleam's Sanctuary, the two siblings and the undead mare (Danica Pure-Spring was reluctant this time, and would have forced Allie to wait outside, but a signal from Gorbul told her that it would be best not to disturb his sister and her weird horse) headed to the inn.

Finding Saadia was easy, she was serving drinks to the customers, roaming to and fro. The not-yet-mage approached her, and tapped lightly on her shoulder.

-Can we speak? In private?- The Redguard was a bit taken aback. She remembered the Breton, and how scary she had looked when she'd threatened the poor bard, who'd probably never look at Breton women the same way again. But she nodded, and guided to ginger to a room upstairs, leaving her brother with the creepy, cold horse.

-So? What did you want to say?

-These guys outside are looking for you. They know you're here. You need to hide.

-Hide? I've been hiding all my life! I can't keep running away!

Yolzeydaan plopped on a chair and scratched the tip of her nose, cold with the air of Skyrim. Why was it so cold? And how could she help?

-Look, these people, the Alik'r, they're assassins, sent by the Aldmeri Dominion. You need to help me. I can't risk getting out of the city. They can't come in here, so I'll be safe, for now. But I need your help.

-Why are they looking for you, anyway? They refused to tell me.

-I spoke out against the Dominion. They didn't like it, and so I ran away. My real name is Iman, of house Suda in Hammerfell. Please. I'm trusting you with this. You have to help me.

The Aldmeri Dominion. They were evil, or so her siblings had told her. If this woman had spoken against them, she was a friend, and the men would definitely not stop just because the guards told them to stay away. She had to do something, quick.

-One of them is in jail in the Dragonsreach Dungeons. See if he knows where to find Kematu. He’s their leader, if you kill him, the rest will scatter.

 _Dragonsreach._ She had to warn the Jarl about the dragon! And about the Dunmer that had apparently summoned it! The aspiring adventurer ran downstairs, a terrible idea that caused her to knock over a shelf, yelled an apology and grabbed her brother and Allie, galloping our of the Bannered Mare headed to the palace.

-EH! Hold your horse!

In her defense, Yolzeydaan did hold the mare tight, as her not-dead-but-also-not-alive friend bolted up all the way to Dragonsreach, even causing the dedicated priest of Talos to stop his sermon for a while before shaking his head and return to his speech.

 The mare reared, neighing when the Breton stopped her to go open the large wooden doors. By her Aunt, those were heavy. She pushed harder, even getting Allie to help.

-You’re supposed to pull them, Tiny.

She followed her brother’s advice, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Resolve in her green eyes, she readied the flames she was oh so fond of, only to have a guard stealing her thunder by opening the door from the inside. She quickly sheathed the spell, knowing (by her own experience) that walking up to a Jarl with fire on her hands was a bad idea that could get her killed, or worse.

Dragonsreach was a nice place. It smelled of wood, food and fire, and a lift bit of magic. Of course it did. Jarl Balgruuf would have a court wizard, of course. The Breton would find some time to talk to said court wizard between the Dunmer problem, the dragon problem, the tree problem and the Saadia problem.

By Sanguine, the people of Skyrim were very problematic. Oh, well. At least she’d have plenty of adventures! With this thought in mind, the not-yet-Mage made her way up to where the Jarl argued with his advisor. But, before the ginger could get any closer to the throne, a Dunmer woman in leather armor walked up to her, weapons drawn.

-Irileth! It’s my little sister, Yolzeydaan. How’s your leg?

The Dark Elf seemed skeptical for a moment, but Gorbul was a good Orsimer, serious and honest, so, if he claimed the Breton was his sister, then his sister she was. Perhaps having been adopted by a human family was what made him into a healer instead of a warrior. Irileth lowered her sword and shield, and Yolzeydaan was thankful for that, since fire magic was not really effective against Dunmeri opponents and the Sparks spell that the mysterious, Dragon-controlling mer has given her wasn’t really her cup of tea.

-My leg is fine, thank you for your concern, Gorbul. What does your sister require? The Jarl is not receiving any visitors. And...- The Housecarl glanced at the undead mare that munched peacefully on Yolzeydaan’s hair. -You can’t bring a horse here.

-A dragon destroyed Helgen and Riverwood calls for the Jarl’s aid. Also, there are assassins from the Aldmeri Dominion after a woman who’s hiding here in Whiterun and they’re gonna kill her and the tree is sick and Allie is my friend.

Gorbul shared a look with Irileth, silently apologizing for his sister’s behavior before patting the mare on her cold neck.

-Tiny, why don’t you go talk to the Jarl while I take Allie outside to get some fresh air?

 The aspiring adventurer was not very keen on letting her undead equine friend out of her sight. She knew how well that ended out last time. But the Priest Of Kynareth was trustworthy, and her best friend in the world, so he wouldn’t let anything happen to her mare, would he?

As they left Dragonsreach, Yolzeydaan approached the Jarl. Jarl Balgruuf reminded her of her mother, if her mother had been male and a Jarl instead of a female necromancer. She decided she liked him.

Proventus seemed familiar too. Her Aunt Cora had an advisor like him, named Haskill, except Haskill had a bit less hair and mustache. Yeah, he was acceptable as well. Whiterun wasn’t too bad, except maybe for the huge amount of water they kept there. Why?

-So, you were at Helgen? And you saw this dragon with your own eyes?- The Jarl asked her. Yolzeydaan nodded.

-Aye, sir! I nearly had him, but someone pushed me and I think I fell from a roof. Last time I saw the thing, it was headed this way. Flew over Riverwood.

-What do you say to this, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?

Maybe the water wouldn’t be so useless. But she still didn’t like it, not even one bit.

-The Jarl Of Falkreath will view this as a provocation! He’ll think we’re about to take Ulfric’s side and attack him!

-I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!- The Jarl ordered Irileth, the Housecarl, to send a detachement to Riverwood, and, as Proventus mumbled some poor excuse to leave, Balgruuf thanked the Breton for warning him about what had happened, offering her steel boots since the ginger was barefoot. Yolzeydaan was honest, but not rude, and knew better than to complain about a gift, but she would have preferred an axe or a sword. She was sure the Jarl had plenty of those laying around.

-There is something else you could do for me. Suitable of someone of your particular talents, perhaps?

Oh, boy, a quest! Skyrim was ripe with opportunities indeed! A wide grin plastered on her freckled face and a pep in her step, the youngest daughter of the Duchess of Mania followed the Jarl, and waited for him to finish talking to the court wizard. Apparently, he too was looking into these dragon sightings.

However, when the Mage told her of the quest he needed her to complete, her smile vanished.

-Bleak Falls Barrow? Are you sure?

-All evidence suggests so. Why?

-I was there. Someone else got there first, maybe they took it, maybe it was never there. I did see a Word Wall, though. Something about Force. My brother would be able to tell you more, but he’s in Solstheim.

Farengar Secret-Fire paced back and forth, before looking again at the plump Breton.

-Do you have any idea of who took the stone?

The Dunmer. Of course it had been the Dunmer. The elf was definitely in this Dragon business, working with them, perhaps? Her brother had told her about Dragon Priests, maybe the mer was one.

-I think I have a good lead on this one. I’ll just have to find her...


	7. No Dragonstone Unturned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An orc priest of Kynareth, a Dunmer mercenary, a not-yet-mage, an ex-Alik'r warrior and an undead horse walk into a bar...

Yolzeydaan was not good at drawing. Not at all. Her Aunt really hadn’t helped her with that, and the ginger had never really cared until that moment, as she sat on the floor of a rented room at the Bannered Mare, surrounded by failed portraits of the Dunmeri dragon priest with Allie munching on her robes. 

At this rate, they’d never find her, not with the mer’s apparent talent to sneak around.

As she plopped backwards dramatically, the Breton groaned, thinking about the amount of work that she had ahead of her. Her brother was quite skilled with drawings, but the Dunmer was not a healing herb, so the orc was of very little help with that.

Letting out a breath she was fully aware of holding, she got up and left the room. Sleeping could wait. She had a lot to do, and she could start with Hulda. If the woman had passed by Whiterun, the inkeeper would definitely know it. However, when questioned about it, the Nord denied having seen the Dark Elf in question, directing her to Lilith Maiden-Look instead.

-Old woman is the eyes and ears of this city. You want to know who comes in or out, she's the one. I have heard of a Daedric cult nearby, if you're interested. The Jarl's men left a bounty this morning, if you're interested.

Oh, boy, was she interested. She remembered when her mother first joined a Daedric cult. Best thing she could have done, really. Not that her dad agreed, but at least she wasn't trying to raise an army of undead, and plus, she got a really cool Aunt. Yolzeydaan grabbed the bounty, not really minding that the letter clearly said that the Jarl wanted the cult dead. Maybe she'd check them out when this whole mess was sorted out. For now, she had... what was she doing?

A Dunmer woman entered the inn, and the not-yet-mage only needed to glance at her once to understand that this was not the one she was looking for, disappointment washing over her freckled face. The woman greeted Hulda, and paid for a room, but before she could go upstairs, the ginger grabbed her arm.

-I'm Yolzeydaan. Gorbul's sister. Can I ask you a few questions?

-Jenassa. I'm an artist.- An artist! Perfect. Oh, this would make things much easier. A grin lit up the aspiring adventurer's face. -Blade and shadow, silence and death... these are my arts. For a modest fee, I'll make great art for you. But, I'll settle for answering your questions, if that is all. I doubt it, though. You look like trouble personified, kid.

-Oh. I thought you meant, like, drawing artist. You see, I'm looking for a woman. A Dunmer, like you. No war paint, no scars, dark hair, red eyes, dragon priest... master of stealth.

Jenassa gave her a half smile as she shook her head. No one matching that description had entered the Drunken Huntsman, and she'd surely remember if she'd seen someone like that.

-You should see if someone in the Dungeons knows her. Or maybe Lilith Maiden-Loom. So, Gorbul was adopted, is it?

-We all were, I think. Are you friends?

-I wouldn't say friends.- The Dunmer paid Hulda for a drink, asking Yolzeydaan if she'd like one. The ginger shook her head. Alcohol wasn't her favorite thing in the world. -But it's hard not to like that Orc. Nice fella. Always wondered where he'd gotten that softness from. Clearly not you.

-Gorbul was always the kindest of the bunch. Some people picked on 'im for that. Those people got a fireball to the face. But you seem alright. Will you help us find her?

Jenassa thought for a while. The kid seemed gullible enough to pay double the usual fee, but Gorbul had gotten her (and half or Skyrim) straight from Death's doorstep several times - and she doubted that after tricking his little sister he'd heal her burns. Dunmer are resistant to fire, but a fireball to the face did not sound like a pleasant experience for anyone.

-My art comes for a fee, Breton. But, since I'm in your brother's debt, I'll lower it for you. For 250 gold, I'll help you with your quest.

The not-yet-mage smiled and took out her knapsack, trying to find her purse. Chaotic. Oh, how proud would her Aunt be! But she had to admit that some order would make things easier to find.

When she finally found the gold coins, she handed them to the mercenary, before running upstairs.

-Come on, Allie! We're going on an adventure!

In a few minutes, the Breton, the Dunmer, the mare and the half-asleep Priest of Kynareth were on their way to the Dragonsreach dungeons. Although Allie was the dead one, Gorbul was way slower. He loved his sister, but was a full night of sleep too much to ask for?

Apparently, yes, and soon they had managed to wake up all the guards (and possibly some of the people upstairs) as the trio and the undead mare made their way through the prison, searching for the Alik’r warrior Iman had mentioned.

They did find him, though, awake, in one of the cells. Strangely, he had all his equipment with him. The Redguard prisoner approached the cell door, and Yolzeydaan frowned, crossing her arms before remembering that her small stature didn’t allow her to look very threatening unless she had a fireball in her hands, and that whatever harm she could do to the warrior was probably preferable than being a prisoner anyway.

-What an odd little group...

-Yeah, but at least we’re not assassins for the Aldmeri Dominion!

 The Redguard stopped for a moment. Assassins? The Dominion? Oh, no. Not that it made much difference anyway. He’d been left behind. Whether Kematu and the others would be visited by a glowing horse that reeked of death, a Dunmer mercenary, an Orc Priest and a pissed off Breton or not, it was not his problem. Not anymore. He just sighed and walked away.

-Hey! Get back here! I’m not done with you!- The ginger slammed her hands against the bars, the sound echoing through the dungeon.

-But I am done with you, ma’am. Good night.

-Look. Maybe we can reach an agreement. I need information. And you... maybe there’s something you want. Freedom? Revenge? Power? A sweetroll?

 The Alik’r warrior walked towards the group again, studying them. Strange traveling companions, but  he’d seen stranger. Though the fact that the Orc seemed to be the less dangerous of the group made him a bit uneasy.

A Priest Of Kynareth. Huh. He raised his eyebrows as he examined the Orsimer’s Amulet. Perhaps the healer could convince the guards to set him free.

-My life with the Alik'r is over now, but I have no wish to die in this gods-forsaken land. If I can be released from prison I may start over. Tell you what, you guys set me free, and I’ll tell you what I know.

It was a fair deal. The brothers shared a look and nodded, but Jenassa stopped them before they did something stupid. The Dunmer approached the cell, looking at the man inside.

-The information first. We have no way of knowing if you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain, nor if you actually know how to answer our questions.

He crossed his arms.

-I’m not talking until you get me out of here.

-I propose a middle ground.- The not-yet-Mage chimed in. -We release you, but you’re coming with us. That way, you’ll have a group of people to look out for ya,  and we’ll have our answers and another pair of hands to help with the quest! Don’t worry, you’ll get your share of the loot. What do you think?

The warrior walked away from the door. Was he really considering it? Oh, to Oblivion with that, of course he was. Kematu had always told them that people are stronger together. He had no one now. The group looked well-fed, and if they could afford a horse (though probably a dead one), maybe their menial quests did provide some money after all. He could use the gold, the protection and the freedom, and also the purpose.

-Fine. I’ll tell you what I know, and I’ll come with you. Now, get me out of here.

-Yes, right away, just... give us a moment, please.- Gorbul pulled everyone away, as they gathered in a circle.

-How exactly do we free him? It’s not like we can pay his bounty...

The Breton raised her hand, a grin appearing on her face, eyes lighting up as she bounced up and down.

-Tiny, committing arson is NOT an option.

The Breton lowered her hand, the grin disappearing from her face, eyes dropping to the floor as she stopped bouncing.

Jenassa and Gorbul evaluated their options. Bribery? Lockpicks? Should the Orsimer pull the “You All Owe Me Your Lives” card? Stealing the key? None of them was particularly stealthy...

Their Very Serious Conversation was interrupted by the loud “BANG” of a cell door being kicked down by a horse, and soon Allie was charging out of the Dragonsreach dungeons with the group and the new addition, guards on their tail as the undead mare galloped out of Whiterun.

 The first cave they found was perfect, they didn’t bother looking anymore. It was damp and dark and cold, but it was a good shelter and it had some grass for the mare to munch on. They made a fire, and settled down for the night, but not before interrogating the prisoner.

 The questioning session left the Breton awake until sunrise. While the rest of their group slept, she was confused.

Iman told her that she had spoken against the Dominion and that the Alik’r were going to kill her for it.

 The prisoner, whose name was actually George, said that Iman had sold the city out to the Dominion, and that they’d bring her back to Hammerfell to be judged.

Her solution for this kind of situations was simple. Kill everyone to death with well-places fireballs and don’t really think about it. But George wasn’t with the Alik’r anymore - they’d left him behind. She decided she’d kill them after all, just because they left him behind. How dare they. George was a nice fellow.

Too bad he didn’t knew much of the Dragon Priest. Liked to drink, he’d seen her at the Honningbrew Meadery a few nights before he was arrested. Quiet mer. Nothing they didn’t all knew already, but at least she’d been to Whiterun. That was a start.

And so, in the morning, with Yolzeydaan looking deader than Allie, the group walked all the way back to Whiterun, entering the Meadery.

-Well, hello there. What can I get you all today? Wait - You can’t bring a horse in here.

-Allie is a mare. Get your facts right, sir.

-Male or female, I don’t want any living animals in my meadery. Out!

-Allie is actually dead, soooo...

-By the Eight, just put that thing back where it came from or so help me...

-Nine! Stop forgetting Stendarr, he’s an asshole sometimes but other times he’s pretty cool.

At this point, Sabjorn decided to give up. Anything he could say would end up used against him in a weird way, and he already had far too many problems to deal with, namely the Skeever infestation, Maven Black-Briar and the fact that almost every thing in the meadery was gone.

So he just served the group a drink and fetched a bunch of apples for the horse, and answered their questions the best that he could. After all, the faster they were satisfied, the faster he could go back to dealing with the original boulders inside his shoes.

They asked questions about a Dunmer, a Dragon Priest, apparently. He remembered an unknown traveler, but she wasn’t much for talking.

-Aye, there was one here. No speaking at all. Just sat there at that table in the corner, drank the mead, paid for it and left in the small hours of the mornin’. Hood over the head, the type you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley.

-So, do you know where she could have gone?- Yolzeydaan asked, fidgeting with a random fork. The man sighed.

-No idea. But she drinks hard. If she wasn’t so... creepy, I’d definitely tell you there was some Sanguine worship involved. If that one ain’t with the Brotherhood already...

Sanguine. Yolzeydaan knew him. Her Aunt used to invite him over every Thursday to her realm. The Breton shook her head. Uncle Sam was a very lively, extroverted Daedra, and his worshippers were nothing like the elf she had met in Helgen, especially if all were like that guy the two Princes were always talking about.

Thanking the man, the group gathered around a table to discuss what they knew.

-Alright, so, Dragon Priest, probably a Daedra worshipper, heavy drinker and most likely an assassin. Anything else?- Jenassa looked at the others, who shook their heads.

-But how exactly do we know we’re dealing with a Dragon Priest? Aren’t they supposed to be dead? Like, long dead?

-Ye didn’t hear it, man. I was about to kill that dragon, I had it right where I wanted it, I’d thrown it off its rhythm, and suddenly she goes and shouts me away from it!

Jenassa and George found it very hard to believe that the small ginger had in fact “thrown a dragon off its rhythm”, but said nothing, simply continuing to drink their ale. After all, they were getting paid for this.

-Hey, George, you were an assassin, weren’t you?

-No.

-Well, now that’s very helpful. Anyone got anything on the Brotherhood? I thought they had been dissolved...

Being the best Healer in all of Skyrim gave Gorbul some advantages, one of them being getting to hear almost every single rumor around the province. Some said that was why his hair was so big, even though he always clarified that it was just because he liked it that way.

And luckily, he had heard gossips about that particular group of assassins, namely a boy in Windhelm attempting to summon them.

-Hm-hm. Aventus Aretino. Poor boy. His mother died before I could get to Windhelm. Strenge, I thought he had stayed at the orphanage.

-You were picked up as a baby, weren't ya?- His sister shot him a side glare. Of course the kiddo was searching for the assassins. If they did get to him, Yolzeydaan would make sure she'd adopt him. -Doesn't matter. So the plan is to find the boy and wait for the Brotherhood there?

Jenassa put down her drink. The Morag Tong wasn't a possibility they should ignore, but she didn't feel like chasing down one of them. However, the ride to Windhelm would be a problem. The mare was strong, but not strong enough to endure such a long trip. Sharing her concerns with the group made the undead equine look at her with thankful eyes. Even after death, four people were too much for Allie to carry.

-I'm not leaving her behind!- The Breton protested, holding her brother's arm as they left the Meadery, walking towards the city's stables.

-We could always split up and meet there...

-Are you kidding? Did you forget what mom used to say?

-Well, what do you suggest, getting her on the carriage?


	8. Street Smarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolzeydaan says "fight me" too much for someone who has no idea how to fight.

Rain. She hated it. The only good thing about the blasted weather was that it was possible to summon Aunt Cora every rainy day. Probably because she was one of the few things that made Yolzeydaan happy in those days.

But they couldn’t stop to summon the new Sheogorath now, so the Breton just covered her head with the Novice Hood and hoped for the water to stop falling.

None of the others seemed bothered by it, though. The owner of the carriage even sang, happily, as if not minding the surprise shower. George accompanied him, having pulled a flute out of Gods know where and playing it expertly. Gorbul was writing something in that yellow book of his, and Jenassa sharpened her weapons.

Maybe, the Breton thought, she'd learn a spell to stop the rain once she joined the College of Winterhold and became an Official Mage. The thought made her smile despite the gloomy, watery weather, and she kept it in her mind until they reached Windhelm.

Windhelm was far from its stables, but at least the weather had changed. Instead of liquid water, now what was falling from Kyne's domain was snow - Yolzeydaan didn't like it, but it was better than rain. She kept her hood in place, but had to remove it once it started to freeze. Jenassa almost suggested that she use her Ancestor's Wrath, before remembering that the not-yet-mage was in fact a Breton. So, the Dunmer just shot her a sympathetic glance and moved along.

The guards stationed at the city's gates wore the same armor her Stormcloak siblings had. She smiled at them, but couldn't see whether or not they had returned the gesture, since their faces were covered by the helmets. Perhaps it was better this way.

They were not very welcoming, but any rude comment was kept for themselves - once again, Gorbul's fame helped the group. The guards allowed them to pass without questions, assuming that they were visiting the city because of the priest - after all, Windhelm was in dire need of something good, what with the strings of murders and the child attempting to summon the Dark Brotherhood.

However, inside the city, things went less smoothly. The orc shook his head as he heard a Nord yelling at a Dunmeri woman. He knew what was coming next, and he didn't like it one bit. Gorbul preferred to settle things the peaceful way, but both Jenassa and his sister seemed to have different ideas this time.

-Oy! Why don'tcha pick on somebody your size, Mustache hat?

-You don't mean yourself, do you? Ha! A kitten who thinks herself a sabercat defending the gray skins. What the world has come to... You serve the Imperials too?

-Watch your tongue, Hat man. Two of my siblings are in the Stormcloak army, and I'm gonna join too!

-Then why stick up for these elves, tiny? And what's up with the horse?

-My brother is the only person allowed to call me that. And Allie is doing better than you will if you continue bothering the Dunmer.- The flames burnt both in her hands and in her eyes, as the Nord scoffed

-It's not necessary, ma'am, thank you, but you don't have to...

-Ha, don't worry!- The not-yet-Mage smiled, her voice changing form the threatening tone for a nicer one as she turned to the mer.

-There's no place for mages in the ranks of the Stormcloaks, kiddo.- He spat in her direction, but before he could turn away, she grabbed his arms.

-Oh, yeah? Ya think I can't bring you to the floor, no magic? By my Aunt, I could do it without weapons, you milk-drinker! I'll have you know, I fought a dragon once!

The Nord rolled his eyes and began to walk away again, but the ginger insisted.

-What? Not so brave anymore? The sabercat thinks he's a kitten? C'mon, show me what you're made of, you... uh... Hat face! Y'all go find the boy, I'll teach this potato not to mess with people!

Yolzeydaan had no fist-fighting experience whatsoever, but they had no way of knowing that. Gorbul knew he'd end up having to heal someone anyways, but just carried on with the others, searching for the Aretino residence.

The Nord landed a punch in her face that would have left her unconscious, but the Breton got back up, bloody nose and all. She had no idea what she was doing, but she had an advantage she had learnt from her Aunt - throwing them off their rhythm. Yolzeydaan never understood what she meant - were bad guys hearing music she wasn't? She tried to focus on that, and, between dodging punches here and there, the Breton ended up finding a pattern to his attacks.

Maybe Aunt Cora had given him a few tips too, she thought, as she made an effort not to think about her now bruised ankle. Why did it have to hurt so much?

She tried a punch, but it hurt her more than it hurt him. Maybe she should really get some gloves. Besides, her hands were cold. Dodging another hit and trying to catch her breath, she felt her nose cold, too. It was hurting and there was still blood running out. At least the wound had warmed it up a little.

In a moment of inspiration (once again before she could decide whether or not this was a good idea), the not-yet-Mage reached out for his face and held his nose, refusing to let go. As the Nord processed what happened, she punched his throat with the heel of her hand and kicked his knee, effectively driving the man to the ground.

-You  _cheated._ \- He accused, bitterly.

-Street Smarts.- She replied, before walking away. However, the adrenaline rush that had kept her up came to an end, making the green eyed adventurer fall to the ground, face first, letting out a not very brave whine.

Meanwhile, the group had gotten lost. Gorbul cursed the city mentally, because it was rude to talk bad about a place while still in said place and he valued his manners - something a lot of people in Skyrim didn't seem to do, but he kept his opinion to himself once again - manners, after all.

 Allie, however, wasn't as educated. The horse had gotten the group kicked out of the inn, charging in and making a mess everywhere. Luckily one of the guards knew how to give them directions (actually, he just told them to avoid the place, by  _telling them exactly how to get there_ ).

And so, like any other normal person would do when told to avoid the Murder Kid’s House, they walked over to the place as if they were going to their own homes, only to find the door locked and a Dunmeri woman arguing with a boy at the entrance.

-Is this the one?

-She doesn’t look like a Dragon Priest.

-Since when do you know what Dragon Priests look like?

-NEIGH.

Between Jenassa, Gorbul and Allie’s argument, the Redguard approached the woman.

-Excuse me, ma’am. Is everything alright? I couldn’t help but hear that someone was trying to contact the Brotherhood.

The mer eyed him suspiciously. Perhaps he was an assassin. He had a sword - a _curved_ sword. However, she told him what she knew - you don’t want to annoy the guy who has a sword unless you have a death wish or a way to defend yourself. Or a dash of insanity. Idesa Sadri had none.

-It is true. Aventus Aretino. His family died and he was sent to Honorhall. He has been performing the Sacrament for weeks.- Her voice didn’t shake, but her thoughts did. 

-I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure if I got your name.

-I... didn’t say it.

-Oh, how rude of me. I didn’t say mine either.

He extended his hand, a polite smile on his face.

-George.

-Idesa.

No, this wasn’t the name. What was it? Something with a B. Or did she eat bees? George didn’t remember. Meanwhile, the others had found a way to enter the house, and so he let the Dunmer go.

Where was the fire Breton anyway? Still fighting the Nord? By the Nine, it was taking her too long.

Yolzeydaan got up from the floor, groaning, only to slip back down since the floor was wet with the snow that kept falling.

-You lot can’t keep yourselves out of trouble for too long, can ya?

-AUNT CORA!- The Breton nearly fell again, being caught by the Daedric Lord in the process. The former Redguard looked at her adoptive niece. She was taller, not that Bretons could really be tall, and had lost weight. Plus, she had some bruises and a bloody nose.

-Don’t worry, Tiny. I got you covered.

She, however, did not, because Daedric Magic is quite unstable, especially when you are the Daedric Lord Of Madness. Yolzeydaan had no wounds, true, but she was a chair. The woman who had been known as the Champion Of Cyrodill quickly reversed the spell, leaving the not-yet-Mage dizzy.

-Oops. Let’s get you dry, and, for the love of Haskill, get some shoes on! I had the same problem with your mother. Or was it your father? Ah, you’re so many it’s hard to keep track.

The blue haired woman opened a portal, but the ginger shook her head. As much as she loved the Isles, she had something to focus on.

-I’m on an important mission to find a dragon priest!

-A quest? How fascinating! How wonderful! How... boring. Aren’t they all dead? Oh, yes, Necromancer family, right, right. I have my own quest, y’know? Mephala is still playing that little RPG! Come visit soon, dear, or I’ll move all of your furniture two centimeters to the left!

With that, the Breton was teleported to the nearest inn, where the innkeeper tried to sort out a horse-made mess. Allie had been there, then. Getting up (a bit too fast), Yolzeydaan rushed to the door, taking a solid five minutes to figure out whether to push it or pull. Neither - it was a sliding door. Leaving the warmth of the inn to the cold, harsh outside was hard, but Yolzeydaan had stuff to do, and she focused on her mission instead of thinking about her really cold feet and nose. By her Aunt, it  _hurt_. She didn't think of that at all. No, her mind was busy following the hoof prints on the snow. Allie was the only horse in Windhelm, and wherever the undead mare was, the others would be too. Gorbul wouldn't be so irresponsible as to leave the mare on her own.

Reaching the group was easy this way, and it was clear that they had entered the house - the door was open. The Breton found the group inside, unusually quiet. George spotted her, and lifted a finger to his lips in a "shh" gesture. As much as Yolzeydaan hated being shh'd, she didn't make a noise. Apparently, the child was no longer performing the black sacrament. Jenassa nodded at the others, and walked upstairs, hand on the hilt of her dagger, in case the agent was still there.

but alas, only a boy stood in the room. It was in a better state than what the mercenary would have expected, and the boy was eating recently cooked food. There were a few bloodstains on the floor and on the walls, but everything else just looked like what you'd expect in a regular house.

-Who are you?

-You're the one who performed the Black Sacrament?- She inquired, as the others made their way upstairs. The boy looked down sheepishly, but then met her red eyes with his.

-My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament.- He answered. Yolzeydaan gulped. The Dunmeri mercenary looked rather threatening, and if someone like her had asked her about some dubious activities when she was this kid's age, she would have broken down crying. Aventus was holding himself pretty well. -And then she came! An assassin, from the Dark Brotherhood! She left a few days ago, to kill Grelod the Kind! It's kind of funny, an assassin was kinder than the woman who's supposed to take care of kids. She even helped me cleaning up the place.

-How did she look?

-Like you. But a bit more scary. She didn't have the yellow things, and her hair was darker. I think she had a bow. She gave me this cool dagger!- The boy showed them an enchanted elven dagger, and Yolzeydaan inspected it closer. Strange. She would swear she had seen the exact same weapon on display in a store somewhere.

-I see. And do you think she will return?- George stepped forward, pulling a chair to sit down next to the kid, who had finished his meal.

-Well, I think so. To get the payment. Or to at least tell me she's dead.

-And would you mind if we waited here with you?

Aventus smiled. He surely wouldn't mind the company. In fact, he was feeling rather lonely. He told them so, and the four adventurers and the undead horse settled down, ready to wait for days if necessary.

But it wasn't - a few hours later, after the Breton and the Orc had drifted to sleep, the Redguard reading a book he found laying around and Jenassa sharpening her weapons again (it was more of a relaxing thing than for actual necessity - she found the repetitive task soothing and the sound was quite pleasant), while Aventus was giving Allie a cabbage, the window opened, and a slender figure made its way in.

-Oh! Hi, ma'am. They were waiting for you.

Bukkanub readied her bow. Anyone looking for her was usually bad news.

-Weapons down, Dragon Priest. Tiny here just wants to talk to you.


	9. Adult Life Is Already So Goddamn Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bukkanub is pretty sure they’re going to kill her now. It’s younger than what she had expected, but she’s pretty much an asshole... wait, DRAGON PRIEST?

-Weapons down, Dragon Priest, Tiny here just wants to talk.

_Dragon Priest?_

No, that wasn’t her. So, the order was invalid, and she kept her bow raised and ready.

-Hey. Weapons. Down.

The Dunmer looked around. She knew the house, and, although she hated the Daedra with all her soul, her relationship with Nocturnal was rather convenient. Even though the mer had been trying her best not to use her recently gained ability, she could not deny that she was at a disadvantage.

She did not pray to Nocturnal like the other Nightingales when she used her Shadow Cloak. She kept silent, and, most of all, invisible. Perhaps that would be enough to throw them off their rhythm.

As they aimed sword and magic around the upper floor, the thief made her way downstairs...

Not counting on the horse.

Any normal horse wouldn’t have seen her - she was well-hidden in the Shadow’s embrace. But Nocturnal cannot hide one from Death - not for long, anyway.

Allie had seen the Void, was it, in a way, since Yolzeydaan’s necromantic skills were not that good. The horse was tied in a limbo between life and death, more dead than alive or even undead. And so, the fake darkness of the living could not fool her.

The mer had no way to know that, of course. So, when the mare kicked her against the stairs, breaking her “invisibility”, Bukkanub had no way of preparing herself for the shock. A well-aimed paralyzing spell allied with a broken rib and the surprise of being detected by a horse in a very weird location made sure to knock her out, or at least keep her immobilized for long enough for the Orc to get her upstairs again.

Yolzeydaan, now awake, studied the stranger’s face.

She had questions. So many questions. Why had she stopped her from killing the dragon at Helgen? How had she summoned it? Why had she helped her when she couldn’t wear the armor? Why was a Dragon Priest working with a bunch of assassins?

But she had to focus. The ginger reached for the mer’s leather satchel, by her Aunt, it was _heavy_. The Dark Elf made a sound in protest, but it was ignored - Yolzeydaan was focusing now. No time to unfocus.

By all of the Daedric Lords, how in Oblivion had this elf managed to get so much stuff inside a tiny satchel? Cabbages, sujamma, seven different types of mead, three iron greatswords, thousands of books, ten Amulets Of Stendarr... AH-HA! A weird stone!

It had to be it!

-FOUND IT!

Bukkanub would have raised an eyebrow if she could. That was probably the weirdest way ever to rob somebody. And she’d seen some weird tactics.

Why did the Breton want that stone anyway? True, she’d been trying to get rid of it for a while now, and every merchant had refused to buy it, but the Dunmer still didn’t like having the slab yoinked away like that.

The spell was wearing off, and the mer was used to the pain. She just had to pretend she was still under the magic’s influence for a little longer, enough for the weird bunch to lose interest, so she could steal all they owned and leave quietly.

-So that’s the stone... why did you have it anyway?

-She can’t speak, Tiny. And she had it because she’s a thief, this Dragon Priest of yours. I don’t even think she’s a Dragon Priest at all.

-No, that can’t be! I heard her shouting!

The Breton was the leader. And apparently she thought the reluctant Nightingale was a Dragon Priest. She had to spin it to her advantage, somehow. Maybe if they thought she could shout them apart, they’d let her go... and return to steal their stuff.

Jenassa turned to her fellow mer, still pretending to be paralyzed.

-If you truly are a Dragon Priest, prove it.

Bukkanub knew how they wanted her to prove it. She knew that it was highly unlikely any of them actually knew the Dragon Language, and remembered a few sounds from some Draugr she couldn’t sneak past.

But she had no idea what the words meant, or if they were actually words and not just Draugr sounds.

To Oblivion with it, if she couldn’t tell, they wouldn’t either. It was all about the attitude.

-Dinok Nil Druf Hin Monah Sahlon Volzah.

The words hurt her throat, just like they did every time she spoke. It had been long since she had talked freely, and the lack of practice made it painful.

But the raspiness of her voice only made the act more believable, at least for all except the Breton.

Yolzeydaan didn’t want to believe it. The Shout she had heard was clear, mortal. And made SENSE. This was just a bunch of Draugr sounds glued together. This was the Dunmer, she was certain. The eyes were the same. The voice was the voice she’d heard when she talked to the mer back at Helgen. She had the Dragon Stone.

Where had she gone wrong?

And, if not the mer, who had Shouted her away from the dragon?

 The ginger walked to a corner, leaning against it and resting her head between the two walls, thinking.

Meanwhile, Gorbul grabbed the thief’s hand, shaking it.

-Thank you. I’ll never forget what you did for my sister. You saved her, y’know? She would have died fighting that Dragon, even though she says she was going to kill it first.

The woman nodded her head in acknowledgment, what else could she do? What’s true and not true is in the eye of the beholder, after all. If they thought her a Dragon Priest, a Dragon Priest she was.

 She got up, and picked up her stuff, that they had scattered around on the floor. She scowled. Cleaning that house had taken her longer than she’d have liked, and this band of... weird people had managed to make a mess out of it again.

Leaving the house behind (having stolen everyone’s purse while at it), the mer shook her head. She definitely needed a rest. Entering the inn, she handed ten septims to the innkeeper (before stealing one hundred from her) and headed to one of the rooms, collapsing on the bed.

-Well, we found her, and we’ve got the stone. We’re heading back to Whiterun, then?- The Redguard asked.

Yolzeydaan made an affirmative sound, muffled by the two walls, and waved her hand as to say “go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you”. Thee two mercenaries looked at each other, and shrugged, but did as she said. Gorbul left after discreetly dropping a satchel in a hole in the floor, covering it quickly before following the others, leading Allie outside.

-You know, there were other people at Helgen that can use the power of the Voice...

-Mhph.

-Orange. Get out of the corner. Don’t you have a quest to complete?

The ginger shook her head no, but it was hard to do that since her head was currently against a corner. Her aunt sighed and smiled before grabbing her hand and dragging her outside.

-You were wrong about a detail. Happens to the best of us. Have you heard of that guy who stored an object of uttermost importance in his sock drawer? At least you found the stone you were looking for. Now, get that thing to Whiterun and be the legend who will prove that Stormcoat wrong!

Yolzeydaan hugged the blue-haired Daedric Prince tightly, and ran after the others, tripping over a rock on the way but getting up quickly, cursing the snow.

-This will be a busy year...


End file.
